Wednesday, February 24, 2010

After howling over Kathryn's and Rachel's joint post on what would happen if Edward II joined Facebook, I was, naturally, compelled to speculate what would happen if some fifteenth-century folks joined as well (with the occasional sixteenth-century visitor). So here it is: The Wars of the Roses on Facebook (more to come):

Margaret of Anjou joined the Frenchwomen Don’t Get Fat and French Girls Make Better Brides groups.

Henry VI needs a marriage manual. Fast.William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk commented: Just lie back and think of England.Henry VI sent a private message to William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk: It’s not working.William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk replied: Is the girl in the bed with you?Henry VI replied: Oh!!!!

Henry VI sent a gift of Maine to Charles VII.Margaret of Anjou, William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk, and Rene of Anjou like this

William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk joined the I'm a Duke Now, and Everything's Going to Be Just Great group

William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk joined the Don’t Think of It as Exile, Think of It as a Holiday! group

William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, fails to appreciate how having your head chopped off with a sword is any better than having it chopped off with an ax.Anne Boleyn likes this.

Richard, Duke of York thinks it’s time to come back to EnglandRichard Neville, Earl of Warwick likes thisEdmund Beaufort, first Duke of Somerset commented: Oh, boy. I can hardly wait.Richard, Duke of York commented: Neither can I!

Margaret of Anjou joined the Preggers at Last! About Bloody Time! group.

Richard, Duke of York, wrote on Margaret of Anjou’s wall: Hey, it’s been a while since Henry VI posted! What’s up there?Margaret of Anjou: He’s just not into social networking anymore. That’s all. Don’t stress about it.

Margaret of Anjou joined the Let’s Name Our Firstborn Son Edward Just to Bug the Hell out of Future Historical Novelists group

Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick took a quiz: Who Fathered Margaret of Anjou’s baby? Would you like to take the quiz?

Richard, Duke of York is really excited about being named Protector of England while Henry VI “rests.”Cecily, Duchess of York likes this.

Margaret joined the Just Because I’m Halfway Civil to a Man Doesn’t Mean He Fathered My Child group

Facebook was temporarily unavailable today. Our technical support staff has investigated and discovered that this was due to excessively heavy traffic on our site in the area of Grafton, England. We apologize for the inconvenience.

During the tumultuous year of 1461, especially before and after the battle of Towton, the ambassadors were trying frantically to sort out the news they were hearing. This led to considerable misinformation being circulated, including rumors that Margaret of Anjou had persuaded Henry VI to resign his crown to their son, that Margaret had poisoned Henry VI, that Anthony Woodville and his father had died at Towton (need I tell you whose in-laws they would become three years later?), that Henry Stafford, husband of Margaret Beaufort, had died at Towton (he, of course, survived to fight for the Yorkists at Barnet in 1471), that Henry, Duke of Somerset had been captured and beheaded in 1461 (he had to wait until 1464), that the Duke of Exeter was about to be beheaded but was spared (he was actually safe in Scotland), and even that Margaret had been victorious over Warwick.

Among the rumors was the famous claim that Henry VI had said that his son, Edward of Lancaster, must have been the work of the Holy Spirit. Despite the obvious falsity of some of the other rumors about Margaret and Henry going round during this period, and the disclaimer by the ambassador himself, "but these may only be the words of common fanatics, such as they have at present in that island," the "Holy Spirit" remark continues to be cited as evidence that Edward of Lancaster was not Henry VI's son. Those who do so should be reminded that the ambassador did not have a terribly high opinion of the veracity of his sources, as shown by his remark on June 18.

March 9: Prospero di Camulio, Milanese Ambassador to the Court of France, etc., to Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan

Accordingly the queen and the Duke of Somerset, in desperation, had persuaded the king to resign the Crown to his son, and so he did out of his good nature.

March 15: Prospero di Camulio, Milanese Ambassador in France, to Cicho Symonete, Secretary to the Duke of Milan.

They say here that the Queen of England, after the king had abdicated in favour of his son, gave the king poison. At least he has known how to die, if he did not know what to do else. It is said that the queen will unite with the Duke of Somerset. However these are rumours in which I do not repose much confidence.

March 27: Prospero di Camulio, Milanese Ambassador to the Court of France, etc., to Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan.

I think I have written to your Excellency constantly upon the progress of the strange events in England, both on the 6th inst. and then on the 9th, advising your Excellency by way of Bruges how they said that the King of England had resigned his crown in favour of his son, although they say his Majesty remarked at another time, that he must be the son of the Holy Spirit, etc., but these may only be the words of common fanatics, such as they have at present in that island.

The northern lords who fell in the battle near York.Anthony, son of Lord le Ryver, who was recently made Lord le Scales, . . .Henry, son of the Duke of Buckingham.

April 18: Prospero di Camulio, Milanese Ambassador to the Court of France, to Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan.

We have news of English affairs hour by hour. Two days ago letters arrived here from English merchants of repute, and we have also heard by way of Calais, that it is true that King Henry, the queen, the Prince of Wales, their son, the Duke of Somerset, Lord Ros, his brother, the Duke of Exeter (Setrh) were taken, and of these the Duke of Somerset and his brother were immediately beheaded. When the same fate was about to befall the Duke of Exeter, there came a message to let him off, and they say he escaped because he is related to King Edward, whose sister he married. However as he is fierce and cruel, it is thought that they will put him to a more honourable death.

April 18: Bruges, the 18th April.The victory of King Edward and Warwick over King Henry and the queen, previously related. The former lost 8,000 men including Lord Sinauter. King Henry and the queen lost 20,000, including . . . Lord Rivers, Lord Scales . . .

May 5: Otto de Carreto and Agostino Rosso, Milanese Ambassadors at the Papal Court to the Duke of Milan.

With respect to English affairs and the advancement of Monsignor there to some high dignity out of compliment to that nation, the Cardinal de Thiano says he has learned very recently that the queen has defeated Warwick and slain a very large number of his followers, so that they do not know what to do about those matters.Rome, the 5th May, 1461.

June 18: Prospero di Camulio, Milanese Ambassador to the French Court to Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan.

Since then we have heard from England, how in the attack made by the fleet on the coast of Cornwall, which is opposite to Spain, the French were repulsed, and lost some say 4,000, some say 2,000. The truth cannot be obtained from England, owing to the stupidity of the people there . . .

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

One of the most infamous episodes of the Wars of the Roses is the death of the 17-year-old Edmund, Earl of Rutland, at the hands of John Clifford following the battle of Wakefield. As depicted by Shakespeare and a number of modern historical novelists (and even historians), Clifford kills the young man, who is unarmed, helpless, and pleading for mercy, with the cry, "By God's blood, thy father slew mine, and so will I do the and all thy kin!" But is this actually how Rutland died?

The account of Clifford slaying the unfortunate Rutland in this fashion comes from one sixteenth-century source: Edward Hall's Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre & Yorke:

While this battaill was in fightyng, a prieste called sir Robert Aspall, chappelain and schole master to the yong erle of Rutland ii. sonne to the aboue named duke of Yorke, scace of y age of. xii. yeres, a faire getlema, and a maydenlike person, perceiuyng y flight was more sanegard, then tariyng, bothe for him and his master, secretly conueyed therle out of y felde, by the lord Cliffordes bande, toward the towne, but or he coulde enter into a house, he was by the sayd lord Clifford espied, folowed, and taken, and by reson of his apparell, demaunded what he was. The yog gentelman dismaied, had not a word to speake, but kneled on his knees imploryng mercy, and desiryng grace, both with holding vp his hades and making dolorous countinance, for his speache was gone for feare. Saue him saycle his Chappelein, for he is a princes sonne, and peraduenture may do you good hereafter. With that word, the lord Clifford marked him and sayde: by Gods blode, thy father slew myne, and so wil I do the and all thy kyn, and with that woord, stacke the erle to y hart with his dagger, and bad his Chappeleyn bere the erles mother & brother worde what he had done, and sayde. . . . Yet this cruell Clifforde, deadly bloudsupper not content with this homicyde, or chyldkillyng, came to y place wher the dead corps of the duke of Yorke lay, and caused his head to be stryken of, and set on it a croune of paper, & so fixed it on a pole, & presented it to the Quene, not lyeng farre from the felde, in great despite, and much derision, saiyng: Madame, your warre is done, here is your kinges raunsome, at which present, was much ioy, and great reioysing . . .

There are several problems with this account, however. First, Rutland was not barely twelve, as Hall depicts him, but seventeen. As such, he was fully old enough to be fighting, just as seventeen-year-old Edward of Lancaster, Prince of Wales, was old enough to be fighting at Tewkesbury eleven years later. And just as both young men were old enough to fight, they were also old enough (by the standards of their day) to die. (Edward the Black Prince, it should be remembered, put his life at risk fighting at Crécy when he was just sixteen.) Killing Rutland at Wakefield in 1460 was no more a child-killing than was killing Edward of Lancaster at Tewkesbury in 1471.

Second, Rutland's age is not the only thing in Hall's account to be demonstrably muddled: though Hall depicts Margaret of Anjou as "not lyeing faree from the felde," she was in fact some distance away, in Scotland. (The story of York being given a paper crown, however, does appear in the Annales Rerum Anglicarum, though neither Clifford nor Margaret is mentioned as being involved in the "crowning.")

Third, no contemporary account of Wakefield relates this pathetic scene, or anything like it. Gregory, who describes Rutland not as a maidenlike person but as "one of the best disposed lords in this land," simply mentions him as being taken and slain. A newsletter dated January 9, 1461, reports of the battle, "Ultimately, they routed them, slaying the duke and his younger son the earl of Rutland, Warwick's father, and many others." The Crowland chronicler in his brief summary of the battle of Wakefield does not even mention Rutland's death. The English Chronicle states, "When they saw a convenient time to fulfil their cruel intentions, on the last day of December, they fell upon Duke Richard, and killed him, his son the Earl of Rutland, and many other knights and squires." The Annales Rerum Anglicarum states, without further elaboration, "And in the flight after the battle, Lord Clifford killed Edmund Earl of Rutland, son of the Duke of York, on the bridge at Wakefield." None of these sources are friendly to the Lancastrian cause or to Queen Margaret, and some are downright hostile; had there been a horrendous story connected with Rutland's death, it's reasonable to think they would have mentioned it.

Clifford himself was killed in battle on March 28, 1461, the day before the battle of Towton. Like a host of other Lancastrians, he was attainted by Edward IV's first Parliament, which met that November. Notably, although the roll for this Parliament refers to the "murders" of the Duke of York, the Earl of Salisbury, and the Earl of Rutland and deplores the beheading of the dead bodies, it does not distinguish Edmund's death as being more horrid than that of his elders:

Wheruppon, at Wakefeld in the shire of York, the seid duc of Somerset falsely and traiterously the same noble prynce duc of York, on Teuisday the .xxx. day of Decembre last passed, horribly, cruelly, and tyrannyously murdred; and also the worthy and good lordes Edmund erle of Ruthland, brother of oure seid soverayne lord, and Richard erle of Salesbury; and not therwith content, of their insaciable malice, after that they were dede, made theym to be heded with abhomynable cruelte and horrible despite, ayenst all humanite and nature of nobles.

Besides Hall, another sixteenth-century source, Leland's Itinerary, does mention Rutland's death. Significantly, though Leland claims that Clifford was known as "the Butcher" because of his part in the battle, he does not connect this epithet with Rutland's death in particular:

There was a sore Batell faught in the south Feeldes by this Bridge. And yn the flite of the Duke of Yorkes Parte, other the Duke hymself, or his Sun therle of Ruthelana, was slayne a litle above the Barres beyond the Bridge going up into the Toune of Wakefeld that standith ful fairely apon a clyving Ground. At this Place is set up a Crosse in rei memoriam. The commune saying is there, that the Erie wold have taken ther a poore Woman's House for socour, and she for fere shet the Dore and strait the Erie was killid. The Lord Clifford for killing of Men at this Batail was caullid the Boucher.

If Clifford did indeed kill Rutland, as stated by Annales Rerum Anglicarum, it's quite plausible that he relished doing so: his father had been killed by York's forces at the first battle of St. Albans, and he and the heirs to the other lords who had died there were notoriously eager for revenge. And Edmund's death at seventeen was undeniably a tragedy, as is the death of any young person. But unless one credits Hall's entire story, which is demonstrably inaccurate in spots and which in its details of Rutland's death is not corroborated by contemporary accounts except in the particular of Clifford being Rutland's killer, there is no reason to regard Rutland's death as a war atrocity.

Sources:

Keith Dockray, Henry VI, Margaret of Anjou and the Wars of the Roses: A Source Book.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

I'm feeling a bit under the weather today, and none of the posts I've planned are quite suitable for the occasion, so here are a couple of romance covers for you, courtesy of this romance novel cover generator:

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

One story that's common to almost all chronicle accounts of Margaret of Anjou is one where Margaret encounters robbers and narrowly escapes. But when and where Margaret was robbed is a matter of some confusion, which this post will do nothing to clear up.

The first reported encounter dates to 1460, after the battle of Northampton. The English Chronicle reports that when she and her son were fleeing to Wales, Margaret was robbed of ten thousand marks. William of Worcester claims that she was robbed by one John Cleger, a servant of Lord Stanley, but escaped while Cleger and his men were going through her possessions. while Gregory's chronicle claims that Margaret was robbed by one of her own servants:

Ande thenn the quene hyrynge thys she voydyde unto Walys, but she was met with be-syde the Castelle of Malepas, and a servand of hyr owne that she hadde made bothe yeman and gentylman, and aftyr a-poyntyd for to be in offysce with hyr sone the prynce, spoylyde hyr and robbyde hyr, and put hyr soo in dowt of hyr lyffe and sonys lyffe also. And thenn she com to the Castelle of Hardelowe in Walys, and she hadde many grete gyftys and gretely comfortyd, for she hadde nede there of, for she hadde a fulle esy many a-boute hyr, the nombyr of iiij personnys. And moste comynly she rode by-hynde a yonge poore gentylle-man of xiiij yere age, hys name was Jon Combe, i-borne at Amysbery in Wyltschyre. And there hens she remevyd fulle prevely unto the Lorde Jesper, Lorde and Erle of Penbroke, for she durste not a byde in noo place that [was] opyn but in pryvatt. The cause was that conterfete tokyns were sende unto hyr as thoughe that they hadde come from hyr moste dradde lorde the Kyng Harry the VI.; but hyt was not of hys sendyng, nothyr of [his] doynge, but forgyd thyngys, for they that brought the tokyns were of the kyngys howse, and sum of [t]epryncys howse, and sum of hyr owne howse, and bade hyr beware of the tokyns, that she gave noo credans there too; for at the kyngys departynge fro Covyntre towarde the fylde of Northehampton, he kyste hyr and blessyd the prynce, and commaundyd hyr that she shulde not com unto hym tylle that [he] sende a specyalle tokyn unto hyr that no man knewe but the kynge and she. For the lordys wolde fayne hadde hyr unto Lundon, for they knewe welle that alle the workyngys that were done growe by hyr, for she was more wyttyer then the kynge, and that apperythe by hys dedys, &c.

[The part about Henry VI kissing Margaret and blessing the prince before departing from Coventry is rather sweet, isn't it? And it would be fun if the 14-year-old Jon Combe was an ancestor of my husband, whose surname is quite similar. But I digress.]

According to another story, which is recounted by Georges Chastellain and French sources, Margaret once more fell into the hands of robbers before escaping abroad, where she regaled the Duchess of Bourbon and other ladies with tales of her ordeal. None of the contemporary sources, however, tell the story quite as splendidly as the Victorian writer Agnes Strickland in her Lives of the Queens of England:

While Margaret was engaged in these agonizing supplications, some of the ruffians began to quarrel about the division of the rich booty of which they had despoiled her. From angry words, they fell to furious fighting one with another; a dreadful slaughter ensued, which proved a providential diversion in favour of the royal prisoners, for the men who had been preparing to put the queen to a cruel death, ran to take part in the conflict in order to secure their share of the plunder, and paid no further heed to her or her son. Margaret took advantage of their attention being thus withdrawn to address herself to a squire, who was the only person remaining near her, and conjured him, "by the passion of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, to have pity on her, and do what he could to assist her to make her escape." This squire, whose heart God had touched with compassion for her distress, and who was luckily provided with a horse, which was able and willing to carry, not only double, but threefold, responded to her appeal in these encouraging words: "Madame, mount behind me, and you, my lord prince, before; and I will save you, or perish in the attempt." Margaret and her boy promptly complied with this direction, and made off unpursued, the ruffians being too much occupied in rending each other, like savage beasts over their prey, to observe the escape of their prisoners. . . .

While she was lamenting over the calamitous events of that disastrous day, she suddenly perceived, by the light of the rising moon, an armed man of gigantic stature and stern aspect advancing towards her with threatening gestures. At first she imagined tnat he belonged to the baud of pitiless ruffians from whom she had fled, but a second glance at his dress and equipments convinced her that he must be one of the forest outlaws, of whose remorseless cruelty to travellers she had heard many frightful instances. Her courage rose with the greatness of the danger, and perceiving that there was no possibility of escape except through God's mercy, maternal love impelled her to make an effort for the preservation of her son, and she called the robber to her. There is something in the tone and manner of those whose vocation is command which, generally speaking, ensures the involuntary respect of attention. The robber drew near, and listened to what Margaret had to say. The popular version of the story is, that she took the little prince by the hand, and presented him to the outlaw with these words: "Here, my friend, save the son of your king." But if Margaret's own account of this memorable passage of her life is to be credited, she was not quite so abrupt in making a communication attended with such imminent danger to her son, nor before she had in some degree felt her way by an eloquent and impassioned appeal to the compassion of the unknown outlaw, who came not in a guise to invite a precipitate confidence. She commenced the parley by telling him, that if he were in quest of booty, she and her little son had already been rifled by others of all they possessed, showing him that they had been despoiled even of their upper garments, and had nothing now to lose but their lives; yet, although she supposed he was accustomed to shed the blood of travellers, she was sure he would have pity on her, when she told him who she was. Then bending her eyes upon him, she pathetically added, "It is the unfortunate queen of England, thy princess, who hath fallen into thine hands in her desolation and distress. And if," continued she, "O man! thou hast any knowledge of God, I beseech thee, for the sake of His passion who for our salvation took our nature on him, to have compassion on my misery. But if you slay me, spare at least my little one, for he is the only son of thy king, and, if it please God, the true heir of this realm. Save him, then, I pray thee, and make thine arms his sanctuary. He is thy future king, and it will be a glorious deed to preserve him,—one that shall efface the memory of all thy crimes, and witness for thee when thou shalt stand hereafter before Almighty God. Oh, man ! win God's grace to-day by succouring an afflicted mother, and giving life to the dead." Then perceiving that the robber was moved by her tears and earnest supplications, she put the young prince into his arms with these words: "I charge thee to preserve from the violence of others that innocent royal blood, which I do consign to thy care. Take him, and conceal him from those who seek his life. Give him a refuge m thine obscure hiding-place, and he will one day give thee free access to his royal chamber and make thee one of his barons, if by thy means he is happdy preserved to enjoy the splendour of the crown, which doth of right pertain to him as his inheritance."

The outlaw, whose heart, to use the impressive words of the royal heroine of this strange romance of history, "the Holy Ghost had softened," when he understood that the afflicted lady who addressed these moving words to him was indeed the queen of the land, threw himself at her feet and wept with her; declaring, withal, "that he would die a thousand deaths, and endure all the tortures that could be inflicted on him, rather than abandon, much less betray, the noble child."

Reconciling all of these various accounts, and untangling the contemporary accounts from later embellishments, has posed quite a bit of difficulty for historians. Cora Scofield, Edward IV's biographer, decided that there were likely two robberies, one in 1460 and 1463, while Charles Spencer Perceval, who studied the various accounts in 1881, speculated that the English accounts were the source of the later Burgundian and French accounts and that it was probable that there was only one incident, that after the battle of Northampton. To confuse matters more, there is a local tradition in Hexham that Margaret and her robber ally hid out in "The Queen's Cave" there following the battle of Hexham; the battle, however, was fought in 1464, long after Margaret had made her way to France.

I'll have to figure out for myself which version of the robber story to follow. In the meantime, search Google and you'll find that the robber story made its way into many improving Victorian works. If you read Alan Savage's Queen of Lions, you'll find a decidedly unimproving and un-Victorian version of the story. Suffice it to say that the robber's height is not the only thing gigantic about him.

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About Me

I've published two historical novels set in fourteenth-century England and featuring the Despenser family: The Traitor's Wife: A Novel of the Reign of Edward II and Hugh and Bess. My third novel, The Stolen Crown, set during the Wars of the Roses, is narrated by Henry, Duke of Buckingham, and his wife, Katherine Woodville. My fourth novel, The Queen of Last Hopes focuses on Margaret of Anjou, one of the most maligned queens in English history. I am currently working on a novel set in Tudor England. I use this blog to post about history (mostly late medieval and Tudor England), historical fiction, and whatever strikes my fancy from time to time. Thanks for stopping by!
The title of this blog, by the way, comes from the song "Evil Woman" by the Electric Light Orchestra. Back when this song was new, I misheard the lyrics as "Medieval Woman."